Not picking up the pieces
by Mattora
Summary: DiNozzo sits at McGee's bedside after an accident, waiting for him to wake up. Drabble
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Not picking up the pieces  
Pairing: None  
Characters: Tony Dinozzo, Tim McGee  
Rating, warning: Minor reference to blood**

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"Uhm … hi…" 

The soft beeping of the heart monitor is unnerving, just like the respirator sounds and dripping of the IVs. Yes, I do know they are keeping Probie alive, I know it would be bad if they suddenly all went silent, but still the noise is racking my nerves.

"So, how are you? Well, you do look better than you did a couple of hours ago, lemme tell you, but to be honest, you're gonna keep that nose of yours, even though I asked the doc to correct it whilst they were at it anyway – but the insurance would not covered it, so you are stuck with it… I had thought about something more striking, let's say Barbara Streisandesce?"

Of course you don't answer me, and my silly babble sounds even worse than usually. But I have to keep on talking, isn't it what they always say, talk to them when they are in coma?

"Well, since you can't complain anyway, maybe I should tell you the complete story of my love life? You see, I wasn't all that please about my character in that book of yours last time, maybe he could get a bit more action? Or you just write another character based on me, one that does fit the description 'sexy, cunning, wanted, best agent ever'?"

The curtains are closed, god only knows why, even if it wasn't in the middle of the night, with that bandage over your eyes you couldn't care less if it's day or night. I wonder what your reaction will be like when you wake up and find your left eye possibly blind… If you wake up… No, let's not go down that road, and by the way, the doc said the chances you recover at least 90 percent of your eyesight are really good. So, not the drama.

"Hey, you know, they are going to do a serial on you? McGeek, with the license to know it all?"

I can see the pattern of your brainwaves, and I really, really get depressed, for they don't change at all.

"You really make my doubt my abilities over there Probie, you know? I promised Abby, if anybody can wake you up, it's gonna be good ole Tony, annoying you back from the death..."

I pick up Bert from the bed, squeezing him tightly. He farts at me, his dumb glass eyes never changing. Poppies from Abby, sunflowers from Ziva, a lot of get well soon cards from friends, even a flower bouquet from that publisher of yours.

"You really should have seen Ziva and Gibbs going after that poor criminal, I guess he was glad to confess everything, as long as he got out of their reach. Scary, those two."

I don't mention I broke his nose – deliberately – dragging him out of his car…

"You know, Abby is driving all of us nuts, she's on caffeine high even worse than usual, going like 200 miles per hour…"

I remember the horror in her eyes on seeing you; for such a huge boy you look frightenly small in that hospital bed, wrapped up like some bizarre mummy Christmas present. Lucky her, at least she could go and cling to somebody for support... Let go of her emotions before they suffocate her.

_Only superficial injuries … not that bad … if he hadn't hit his head … the splinter in his left eyes might have injured the visual nerve… He should be awake by now ... No explanation...  
_  
"Hey, Probie, you know, you don't have to feel bad for keeping me here all night, I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway since my neighbors brought their little monster home with them. Remind me to never ever consider having kids of my own, I'm way too old to stay up all night…"

Still I'm here and watch over my '_fallen comrade _' – bad pun indeed, but I don't think of it as funny anymore – running out of safe topics to talk. Topics that won't have my throat suddenly go tight, or will make me feel responsible...

"If you don't wake up within 12 hours, I'm going to pick the locks on your desk – I bet you have some interesting things in there. It's an official rule, if one doesn't claim a desk for 3 days it's community property."

3.07 am … I should go, get myself some coffee and drive home… Or at least flirt with some pretty night nurse, I guess by now they are convinced the two of us are lovers, for all the time I spent at your bedside. As if Gibbs and Ducky didn't drop by too and stayed for a while!

"Probie, you know the longer you pretend to sleep, the more time I have to come up with new nicknames to tease you once those bandages get off. So far I have Humpty Dumpty, Edward Cullet Hands…"

Will you tease me about the cuts on my own hands once you're awake again?

Those cuts ... when I tried to lift you up so I could get you out of that heap of shards you landed on, face forward, when that idiot pushed you through the window? I took all the strength I could muster to not reach down and pull that ugly glass shards out of your face while waiting for the ambulance to come, knowing me trying to help you would only make things worse…

So much glass, so much blood, on your shirt, your face, your legs...

"Hm, I guess you won't ever be eating glass noodles again, what?"

Noticing how shaky my voice sounds, I finally give up. I'm not going to cry in front of you Probie – Tim – McGee - even if you are unconscious.

Before I close the door, I turn around one more time, taking in your prone, pale form, feeling guilty all of sudden for leaving you.

"Get well Probie – You know I – we miss you, okay? So, just get well, okay?"

I close the door, and ever so slowly make my way out of the hospital to the parking lot.

After sitting 20 minutes in the dark, I get out of my car again and walk back to the hospital. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you very much for reviewing! You are so kind:hug:**

Not picking up the pieces - Part 2 (final)  


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"Will you stop that?"

Honestly, I would really like to keep it up, just so that you comment on it now and then, so I know you're still with me. But you sound so tired and exhausted, it would be mean to continue tapping my fingers on the metal railing of your bed.  
In five seconds – not like I count the ticking of my watch – you will be awake for exactly 30 minutes in a row. After only two days of coma and another one of more slipping out than in of consciousness, you can't even come to understand my relief, can you? To you, it's just three days you can't recall after having one of the most painful accidents so far in your life, and you wouldn't mind to slip back into the bliss of unconsciousness.

"Did you see any weird stuff? I wonder, have you met any dead people or anything like that? You know what they say, visitors from another realm?"

You sigh, positively wishing you could see me, so you could try to strangle me.

"No, for the last time, I can't recall anything whilst being in coma. So, why don't you just go out and talk to some nurses? I'm sure they just wait to meet the infamous DiNozzo, modern Casanova…"

You yawn, and almost pull the IV needle out trying to stifle it. Out of instinct I reach over to entangle the thin tube, something I had to do numerous times yesterday. You feel I'm suddenly closer to you, and don't dare to move until I sit back on my uncomfortable plastic chair again. I take a mental note to tell you first what I'm about to do next time before moving, for it must be really irritating to not know what is going on.

"Thanks."

Though your eyes are still covered by that annoying white dressing, I can read your face well enough to know what question you are gonna ask me. Maybe I really should go out and find some nurse to banter with …

"How long have you been here?"

Always? Most of the time? Long enough to have the doctors threat me, and the nurses pity me, even bring me coffee? So many hours Abby forgave me for not taking better care of you, though we both knew it was not my fault the criminal pushed you down there?

"Ah, just came over, you see, no new cases, Gibbs being in an even fouler mood than usual… I was bored, and having Ziva gut me out for making bad jokes on her behalf isn't worth it. "

I think I just saw you raising your eyebrows, which can't be for they are covered up as well. But you don't ponder on it. At least not for now.

"You haven't picked my desk, have you?"

I'm really, really grateful you can't see my dumbfounded face now. You can't recall what I said the last few days, do you? No, you can't I decide, forcing myself to calm down. You are really getting good at this stuff Probie.

"Of course not, what makes you think? I doubt you've got anything interesting in there anyway – do you Probie? Some secret kinky stuff Abby gave you?"

Of course you blush, denying it, and so I keep on teasing you until your doctor comes in, sending me out so he can perform the check up, and have the nurse she has in tow change the bandages

As usual, my walk first leads me to the bathroom, were I can once more enjoy the sight of a completely sleep deprived DiNozzo grinning back at me. I really have to catch some sleep before Probie get's his eyesight back, or years of work on '_I'm a tough macho_' reputation have been in vain. Can't have him think of me as a softie that would worry himself sick over a male colleague…

Next stop is the coffee vending machine; I don't even need to focus anymore on how to get myself some hot coffee; 50 cups within three days will do that to a man.

Whilst slowly returning to McGee's room, I read my short messages, grateful Gibbs has let me off the hook yet again. Poor Ziva, I owe her for real this time, facing the demon lord Gibbs all on her own. At least he's not slapping her on the head.

When I return, the doc and nurse have left , and the soft snoring tells me McGee is already fast asleep. The bandages are getting fewer with each passing day, and if it weren't for that troublesome eye he'd long be cleared - but somehow I wish they'd keep those angry red cuts covered until they are gone. The ones on my hand are already itching, and I can't help pick on them while listening to your snores.

Why am I still here? You have been awake, and now you are sleeping because they gave you some painkillers; you will be right as rain by end of the week, and it's not like there will be anybody showing up here to murder you. You don't need a babysitter, right?

The coffee is lukewarm by now, tasting gross. I watch you sigh and shift, only to continue snoring after a while. I guess I know why I'm still here, drinking bad coffee and pretending I'm not tired. Watching others heal does healing oneself too, I guess…

I need to be here, talk to you, make sure I get you back in one piece, in order to mend myself. Maybe this is the reason why Gibbs allows me to keep away from work for so long, willing to lose two agents and not only one; If not for the sake of you, then the sake of me.

I try to find a more comfortable position, willing myself to relax so I get at least a little bit rest tonight.

I have to get used to humans being fragile and breaking sometimes; I will have to be able to live with not being able to prevent bad things from happening, and without being able to at least lessen the pain... I wonder how Gibbs can stand watching us, struggling to get to our own feet after we fell, without just reaching down and pull us up, for I know he could.

I guess he knows, some things have to heal all by themselves.  
All I can do is not picking up the pieces.


End file.
